Legacy
by Catsitta
Summary: His was a path ending in misery...In death, he is given a chance to change a destiny once thought to be set in stone. Oneshot.


**Disclaimer: **I'm borrowing J. K. Rowling's toys. I'll put them back when I'm done playing.

**Legacy**

**By Catsitta**

_So this was how it ended._

A lifetime of endless discord would conclude on this violent note. Regardless of his valiant pursuit of redemption, here he would die: voiceless, alone and his mission unfulfilled. Poison coursed through his veins, flooding his frantic heart with its deadly promise. A promise that would be his end should the copious amount of blood gushing from his torn throat not be enough to end a broken man's suffering. He had done all that he could do to keep his vows to the living. Now, all that remained was for his heart to give out and relieve him of his bitter existence.

There would be no reason for him to remain on the mortal plane once he escaped into the land of evermore, be it realm of heaven or the flames of hell. His mission was complete. He had no purpose amongst the living. The war would end soon. Light would overcome Dark. And he, the one whom traversed into the limitless depths of both sides, whom tainted himself to the point of no reconciliation in the fight to preserve all that is good; he would find his end. Nothing awaited him should he survive. Nothing except misplaced awe and well deserved scorn.

He was not a good man. Never would he claim to be such. But neither was he an evil man. Cruel and ill tempered, yes—but not evil. None amongst the living save for a few knew his story and understood his calculated madness. Even amongst them, however, none accepted it. They would claim otherwise, but their pitying eyes betrayed them every time.

Severus Snape was not a wizard to be pitied.

He refused to live in a world where he was a martyred hero with an unspeakable, villainous past. He refused to live in a world where his mixed loyalties were known and could incite fearful whispers in the populace. He refused to live in a world that would continue to deny him happiness when all it ever offered was misery. He refused to live in a world in which he would never be in control of his life— a world that preordained him to be but an obedient servant to pull about by his strings like a mindless marionette.

Thus he drew his final breath as he lay there on the floor of the Shrieking Shack, willingly departing from the world that never gave him a chance.

His eyes fluttered shut.

Darkness. Surreal and comforting, embraced him.

** "Wake up!"**

Severus, against all logic, did just that. Obsidian eyes snapped open, drinking in every detail…and his heart, somehow pounding within his chest, skipped a beat. This was not where he lay dying, Severus noted warily, his every muscle tensing. He was in a bed, one not his own nor belonging to a hospital, in a room distinctly foreign. All around were strange looking artifacts that were distinctly muggle in appearance. As a half-blood raised in a muggle home, he vaguely recognized this fact…but it was an awareness that was far from comforting.

How in Merlin's name did he end up in a non-magical home? Why was he here? St. Mungo's would have been a vastly better place to keep a war prisoner…hero…survivor…whatever it was that he was considered now.

Dread dropped in Severus' gut. Gods, he was alive!

Breaking out in a cold sweat, he fought against the urge to rip the sheets away from his body and storm his way into freedom. His inner spy demanded that he keep his head and investigate, obviously, whoever tended his comatose body had not wished him any harm. His newfound sense of independence demanded that the spy shut his mouth and disappear because his opinions were not needed nor wanted currently.

With great caution, he sat up, pushing his back against the headboard of the large, sleigh-style bed. Severus spent a moment fingering the tasteless, mint-green coverlet before thrusting the sheet aside. He blinked with surprise. Wrapped about his form was an all-too-familiar dressing gown emblazoned with Slytherin's Crest. Severus touched the coiled, emerald serpent on his breast and watched as the magical stitch work slithered away from his fingers, settling its sinuous shape elsewhere on the silver shield beneath it.

What muggle would dress him in a wizarding garment?

Frowning with thought, Severus did not notice the approach of an unfamiliar figure until it was too late. They moved quickly and practically pounced upon him. Only highly trained reflexes kept him from being blindsided and from, a split second later, reacting to the stranger when he realized what they were. There, bouncing on her hands and knees like a puppy in the middle of the bed, was a little girl of no more than four years of age. Slowly, Severus uncurled from his defensive stance against the headboard and met the bright-eyed gaze of his almost-assailant.

"You're awake!" she squeaked at him, leaning back so that she was sitting on folded knees, he heels resting beneath her, little hands motioning excitedly.

Severus could only blink owlishly in confusion. Children did not fly fearlessly into his presence, they ran in fear. He was the "greasy git" and "bat of the dungeons". His loathsome appearance alone scared away the younger generation and coupled with his nasty tendency to reduce the lack witted into a puddle of shivering nerves with a library's worth of cutting remarks, few ever dared to risk being in his presence alone.

"Mama says brea'fast is…is…w-we-ready." The girl continued, watching him with fearless brown eyes as she struggled to pronounce the "R" in "ready". Upon succeeding, she flashed a toothy grin at him, positively beaming with pride. Apparently it was quite a feat accomplished…Not that the wizard she grinned at cared. It was unnerving enough being around such a young child, to add in the unfamiliar atmosphere and the fact that his last memories were of dying a very painful death, Severus had little reason to offer any sign of approval. Instead, he scowled at the girl, mustering every bit of his infamous temper to flash behind his otherwise expressionless eyes.

He expected the chit to cry or at least run off. Instead, she shrank back for a heartbeat, her lightly curled, black hair curtaining her round face, before beginning to tremble. Not with fright, he noted with disdain, when the child began to giggle, a crooked smile quirking onto her lips.

"You're cw-cranky," she informed him lightly as she fiddled with the sleeve of her white sleeping gown. Then, she sobered, her smile fading as she regarded him with understanding that only an innocent can offer. "Bad dwe-dreams?"

"I…" Severus found himself unable to continue. What was going on? What exactly did this child know? Who was he mother? Why was she allowing her daughter anywhere near a man like him? Was she foolish or simply ignorant of his crimes? Merlin! He should not be alive right now to ask these questions. The blood loss alone should have done him in, but with Nagini's venom also in his system, there was less than a percentage chance for his survival. Unconciously, Severus brought a hand to is throat, his fingers quickly mapping the thick scar that now marred the pale flesh there.

"Oh," the girl folded her hands on her lap and bowed her head,"that dream. Bad men can't hurt you no more. You're safe. Just dw-dream."

It felt as if his very blood froze. He wanted—needed—out. Right. Now. Severus pushed away from the head board and swung himself to his feet. Padding soundlessly across the carpeted floor, he proceeded to do his best to find his belongings and disappear in haste. Only, when he flung open the double doors of a nearby wardrobe—discovering many sets of both male and female, muggle and wizarding garments—another person enter the room, halting his progress.

Sensing them more than hearing or seeing them, he glanced over his shoulder to at least see his captor.

His actions stilled.

There, standing less than a yard away, was none other than Miss Hermione Granger: know-it-all Gryffindor, best friend of the brat-who-lived-twice and paramour of a Mister Ronald Weasly. Except, she looked different than he remembered, no longer a half-starved figure with haunted eyes and a wild mass of god-awful hair. Instead, the girl appeared before him as a woman, with fiercely intelligent eyes and, a full—dare he say, lush—figure and the same, god-awful hair that was wrestled into obedience by a plethora of pins.

"Severus," Granger bid softly, as if attempting to soothe a wild animal. "Severus, you are safe. It was a nightmare…but it is over now." When exactly had the chit decided to take liberties and use his given name? "Shh. See, I'm here. Waking up in unfamiliar places makes you nervous, I know, but remember, we are in Australia. We rent this house every year during the summer to get away from Britain and magic for a few months…"

"What in bloody hell are you talking about, Miss Granger! Do you take me for a fool?" he bit the words out with a snarl, rounding on the lying witch with his teeth bared. His wand…where was it? How exactly was he supposed to escape from fucking Australia without a wand? Severus stalked closer to Granger, purposefully looming over the significantly smaller ex-student that decided to play this malicious mind game. "You disgust me." He spat once he was hovering above her, glaring down the aquiline nose that cursed him to years of ridicule from children, both as a child and as a teacher of children. The hair curtaining his face, he realized, was longer and did not hang in oily, lank clumps anymore.

Granger, apparently the consummate actress, promptly gasped in dismay, her face flushing with anger.

"Rose!" she snapped, breaking eye contact with him to glance at the bed. The little girl—Rose—was huddled up in the sheets, peering sadly over the baseboard at Granger. "Go to your room."

"But…"

"Now Rosalind!" The girl leapt up and darted away, hesitating briefly in the doorway before disappearing into the hall. Granger glared up at him with heated eyes,"What were you thinking? What ARE you thinking? Behaving like that in front of Rose. I know you dislike living like a muggle, but it's only for a few weeks and it allows for her to connect with both halves of her heritage. Honestly, does visiting my parents, Rose's grandparents I might add, cause you that much suffering? "She stood up on her toes, breeching the gap between them to be nearly nose-to-nose with him. "The nightmare's disorient you, yes, but for god's sake, you have not called me Granger since I was married."

Married? Granger was married and the girl was her daughter? How long had he been asleep! Or was this just some perverse, twisted dream? "You are married," Severus mused aloud. "The girl certain does not look like Weasly spawn, so who's the father?"

Granger fell back on her heels, as if she'd been slapped. Her mouth fell open for a heartbeat before shutting with an audible click. "Who's the father?" she repeated. "Who. Is. The. Father? Did you Obliviate yourself before you went to bed last night? You're Rose's father, you nitwit! We have been married for ten years."

"I must express my curiosity at your earlier phrasing when it came to your marital status. Why did you say when "I married" rather than "we"." He attempted to deflect the route of this conversation elsewhere. This was all too confusing.

"You…you honestly do not remember…do you?"

"Last I can recall, I was dead." Severus drawled. Not dying, not on the verge of death, but dead. Maybe this was the afterlife he had been anticipating. Though whether he was in heaven or hell was up for debate given the fact that he was married to a student he would not tolerate being the same room with and had apparently together they had spawned a child. A daughter. He hated children. He never wanted one. Given his upbringing and track record when it came to dealing with juvenile antics, he was perhaps the worst possible choice to sire a child. At least the snot-nosed brats he taught were at least half-way raised before he ever laid eyes on their idiotic hides.

It was then that time seemed to slow to a halt. Granger, because he refused to think of her wearing his surname, stood there motionless, her eyes filled with heartache. A tiny hand curled around his finger. Severus glanced down to see Rose staring up at him, vivid and full of life, a stark contrast to the fading scene around him. He knew it to be a dream, even before the color fled from the world, leaving him standing against a greyscale backdrop akin to a pensive memory.

He watched with rapt fascination as the dressing gown he wore liquefied and darkened, turning into his standard manner of dress in a matter seconds. He felt the comforting compression a high collared, button-up shirt and the overlying layers of black cloth. His robes settled around him like folded wings, covering the trousers that were neatly tucked into the tops of well-worn dragon hide boots.

"It's a path."

Severus took a moment to stare at the child grasping his hand in her own. The words she spoke did not seem to match with her body, yet they passed from between her lips all the same.

"Pardon?"

"This," Rose informed him with a soft squeeze. "This is a path you may take. The path of Legacy."

"What—?" he began, but the girl cut him off.

"There are many paths to take and this is only one. But it is the only route to the forgiveness you seek from yourself. You could easily choose to die right now, but with all the hatred and regret that lingers in your heart, you would be cursed to a state of perpetual limbo. There is no peace in the world beyond life for those you have yet to find peace in living."

The girl suddenly no longer a child, or even Rose. In the blink of an eye, beside him stood a colored doppelganger of the greyscale Granger he supposedly married. Her fingers entwined with his.

"You may wonder why you should keep living, even if death would mean a state of eternal wandering, for dying would be a relief from pain and sacrifice. All I can say is that you have earned your place in the Light, and you should have a chance to rest there in your end. Continue on the path you have chosen and you will have to fight no more. But I am here to offer you the one thing you never had before: choice. You are the master of your destiny, Severus. You are at the crossroads between Life and Death."

The greyscale world became shockingly white, the scene bleeding into another completely.

Now, they stood at the gates of Hogwarts, the place in which Severus' life revolved around since the age of eleven.

"I could show you other paths if you wish, but I am afraid the others do not have…quite so happy endings."

"I cannot imagine possibly being happy married to Granger and siring a child. It sounds like a fate worse than death."

"Could you imagine coming to respect her?" Granger inquired, and it unsettled him to listen to the shape-shifting figure speak in third-person. "She is an impressive intellect despite her choice of friends." Severus said nothing. He had contemplated, in moments of quiet insanity, that the know-it-all would be rather good company for a bookish man when she grew up and her intelligence matured into brilliance. The advances she could make were innumerable should she choose to pursue them. "Respect is a good foundation for a relationship. Those whom respect each other find friendship comes naturally and with friendship, trust is bred. After all, who is to say that all marriages are acts of love and folly? Amongst wizards and muggles alike, marriages of contract or of agreement based in mutual trust and respect are none too uncommon."

"You are implying that this path of Legacy, should I choose to follow it, would include a marriage to a muggleborn witch half my age whom I…consent to marry out of mere agreement between us. No professions of passionate romance or other hogwash?"

"The two of you are suited. Given the circumstances you would face should you choose to live, it is only natural that you see it and arrange for a contract between the two of you."

"What exactly are you suggesting?"

Granger regarded him with forlorn eyes,"I am suggesting that there will be hardships ahead that no one could guess. Consequences of the war. Let it be said that the Ministry is far from finished with its mistakes." She then looked away, turning her attention to the looming gates. "I am afraid that this is all the time we have together, Severus. You must make your choice now. Do you live and allow for the path of Legacy to shape your future? Or do you continue on the path you travel now and resign to your grim fate? Through those gates is a new beginning…walk away now if you do not wish to continue."

Severus found his voice stolen away, a sudden sense of urgency gripping him. He was in the world between life and death and for some bizarre reason, the gods were giving him a choice in the matter. Hesitation was not in his nature. With haste, he sped towards destiny.

Watching from the middle of the path, remaining where Severus had once stood, was a woman wearing different face from before. It was her own rather than a mask, and it felt nice to have her red hair and green eyes back to normal. She smiled. After all these years, it was about time her childhood friend found his happiness.

Slowly, the spirit of Lily Potter walked away, delving deeper into the amoebic realm of the otherworld.

Elsewhere, Severus Snape opened his eyes to see a certain know-it-all hovering above him, crying out frantically for help.

The man they all thought dead had chosen to live.

**Fin**

**A/N: Just me thinking. I couldn't go to sleep until I wrote this down. Took an hour and a half to jot down my rambling thoughts…Please review! **


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